Page 90 of The Trade Deadline
“I'm going to get comfortable on the bed,” he said as he ran his thumb along Ryan’s jaw, “then you’ll open me up with your tongue before you fuck me senseless.”
Ryan gulped and stared longingly as Lars crawled onto the bed. Somehow his dick got harder. “Should I…?”
“Lose the shirt and pants.” Lars was rearranging pillows. “Keep the underwear for now.”
Ryan groaned but did as he was told. He’d known what he was signing up for. By the time he’d added his clothes to the pile, Lars was propped up on the pillows with his gorgeous ass on display.
“I've been thinking about this all evening,” Lars said when Ryan settled between his legs. “I knew the moment you suggested it, I needed it.”
Ryan leaned down and kissed his left cheek before centering himself properly. He caressed up and down Lars’s back. “Good choice,” he breathed against his skin, earning him a slight shudder from Lars. “I was kinda hoping you’d pick this.”
He didn’t give Lars a chance to reply. He pressed forward to press a kiss to Lars’s hole, enjoyed the way the muscle tightened at the contact then relaxed right as Ryan licked a circle around his pucker.
“Fuck.” Lars bucked. “Do that again,” he begged.
Instead of teasing him, Ryan rewarded him with another pass of his tongue, then another and another, sometimes dipping his tongue down to his balls. He got Lars’s hole nice and wet before he pressed his tongue inside. With slow thrusts of his tongue, he worked it gradually inside and then added a finger. He kept working him open, little by little, until Lars was a writhing mess beneath him. He rutted down against the pillows and spread his legs as wide as possible in invitation, and while Ryan would love to stay there all night, he had more orders to follow.
He placed one last kiss to Lars’s ass before reaching into the nightstand for a bottle of lube and a condom. Lars whined when Ryan had pulled away but sighed happily when he had to lay himself across his back to reach the drawer.
“So impatient,” Ryan teased. He settled on his knees behind Lars and put a generous amount of lube on his fingers to finish opening him up.
“I almost jerked off again in the shower,” Lars confessed. He hadn’t stopped moving since they started. “I cleaned up and stretched myself out. Had to stop or I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it as much with you.”
Ryan groaned at the mental image of Lars prepping himself in a lonely shower stall at the rink while Ryan was only a room away, blissfully unaware.
“Is that why it’s so easy”—he pushed in two fingers up to the first knuckle with no resistance and began to spread the lube with shallow thrusts—“to open you up?”
Lars shivered. Goosebumps trailed down his arms and legs, his fingers buried in the sheets as he clung for dear life. “Yes,” he gasped.
He made quick work of stretching Lars out. Normally he might drag it out until Lars was absolutely begging for Ryan to fuck him. Not tonight. Tonight was about properly rewarding Lars and giving him exactly what he wanted. Based on the breathy gasps and the way he was thrusting back to meet his fingers, Lars wasn’t interested in being teased.
“Ready?” Ryan asked, his voice deeper than he’d expected.
“Ja,” Lars said, and a lump formed in Ryan’s throat. Lars didn’t talk much during sex, but when he did, it was in Swedish more often than not, or heavily accented English. His accent was mostly smoothed out, not as thick as it’d been in Switzerland, but it was never thicker than when he was on his knees or his back (or had Ryan there).
“I can take these off?” Ryan asked. He didn’t bother pointing to his tented boxer briefs, since Lars’s eyes were barely open.
“Take them off,” he confirmed, almost incomprehensible. Ryan hadn’t known he’d have a language kink, yet here he was, his dick leaking more precome with each syllable. Maybe because this was more Lars, somehow, some distilled version of him closer to his core. A piece that most people rarely, if ever, got to see.
Ryan realized he was wasting time marveling at the man in front of him instead of fucking him. He quickly lost his boxer briefs and rolled the condom on, slicking himself up while Lars squirmed restlessly. He moved closer, lifted Lars’s hips up to get the perfect angle, and used his hand to line his cock with Lars’s wet hole. When he applied pressure, there was the slightest bit of resistance and knew it wouldn’t take much more to be inside him.
“Rea—?”
“Fuck me already.” Lars twisted to throw him a bitchy look over his shoulder, one rendered infinitely less bitchy by his lust-blown eyes and the slight tremble in his lips.
“Got you,” Ryan promised and then pushed in.
They’d done this before. They’d taken turns fucking each other, though they often didn’t have the time or privacy. Hotel rooms where they had to be quiet, nights when they were too physically exhausted to do more than use their hands or too worked up to get their clothes off. So while the sensations that rolled through him weren’t new, they were still potent enough that Ryan shuddered under their weight.
Slowly, gently, he pushed inside. Over and over, he pulled back nearly all the way out, gave a few shallow thrusts before he’d slide in another inch, then waited a few seconds before starting again. It was a predictable rhythm, designed for Lars’s comfort and completely ignoring how much it drove Ryan crazy. All he wanted to do was move with wanton abandon, to drive into Lars again and again until he fell apart.
Which he would…once he’d made sure Lars fell apart first.
He bottomed out and stayed there, buried in Lars’s tight heat. It felt divine. He could barely think straight when they were joined like this, regardless of who was buried in whom.
He pulled back experimentally then slammed in. They moaned together. His second thrust was longer, harder, and soon they found the perfect rhythm. Lars didn't have much leverage to meet him, but Ryan was happy to take charge. His grip was bruising and his movements steady as he drove them at a grueling pace to orgasm.
Lars must be close. He used the friction of the pillows and was so far gone there was a steady stream of incomprehensible Swedish pouring from his lips. Ryan wished their positions were better for him to stare into blue eyes, watch for that second when Lars was completely undone.
